I wan­dered sore dis­tressed,
All wea­ry and for­lorn;
I had no place to rest,
Of all my plea­sures shorn—
My thirst­ing spir­it sighed,
And in the de­sert cried.

The Shep­herd heard my cry,
Who came His flock to find,
And drew in mer­cy nigh,
For He is won­drous kind;
His win­ning voice awoke
My spir­it as He spoke.

He bade my wan­der­ing cease,
And gave my heart a home,
That, from the bliss of peace,
I might no long­er roam—
He gave me hope for fears,
And last­ing joy for tears.